I Grew Up In Gotham City
by why so serious- The Joker
Summary: A homeless Robin is taken in by Bruce Wayne. Unfortunately, ALfred doesn't like puns. Please please PLEASE review!
1. Chapter 1

Gotham was a tough place to grow up- Robin Grayson knew that firsthand. Brought up in a circus in a tough area of town, she was accustomed up hearing the pop of gunshots and the wail of police sirens.

Tonight, however, was ominously quiet. The Falcone mob had been silenced, and, for the last few months, Gotham had lived in relative peace. Not that this helped Robin any- times were tougher for her than they had ever been. She hugged her worn leather biker coat closer to her and pulled the hood down over her forehead- it would be along night indeed if she didn't find shelter soon.

The alleyways Robin trod through the day were quickly becoming dark as the last tendrils of purple leaked out of the clouds. Robin quickened her pace; it was a bad idea for anyone to be caught out alone in this part of Gotham, even more so for a young woman.

Her favorite haunt was out by the docks at Gotham Harbor. Within its maze of empty cargo containers, one could find plenty of nooks and crannies which to sleep away the night unnoticed. One had only to watch out for the occasional drug dealer or prostitute taking advantage of the docks privacy. Robin had traversed the area so frequently she did not have to think about where she was going; she simply followed where her feet took her.

She stopped abruptly in the ghostly orb of a streetlight. Her small figure cast a distorted shadow in the orange light. All seemed quiet, but…

She disregarded the notion. "Keep going. You're the only person around," she thought. Shaking her head, Miss Grayson continued on. "You know how everything echoes in here."

But as the many rows of containers passed by, Robin kept her ears open. Everything was as it always was. Still… "Something's weird here."

Robin was certain she heard another set of feet pounding the asphalt behind her. She slipped clandestinely between two stacks of containers, making sure she was hidden by the crates. Sure enough, another set of footsteps continued to plod on. "There _is_ someone else."

As the footsteps approached, Robin waited with bated breath. Whoever it was passed by her hiding place without pausing. Miss Grayson wiggled her way out from between cargo containers and crept on toward her usual hiding place- but kept close to the shadows and muffled her footsteps.

Suddenly-

"Hey Sweetheart! You passed that streetlight and just up and disappeared!" Two muscular hands seized the collar of her jacket and shoved her to the ground. Her head cracked the pavement. Scrambling up, Robin kicked back as her attackers huge hands fumbled at her ankles. She stumbled a few desperate steps, but her head swam with the impact of the fall and her feet fumbled. She fell back to the ground, and those same two arms pulled her by the shoulders back behind a container. "Not so fast sweet- Oof!"

The man holding her spun backwards, and Robins arms were wrenched painfully as her attacker flew away. This latest assailant materialized from between cargo containers, a great tall man in black. Even as Robin crawled away, the sounds of their fight reverberated throughout the docks.

But Robin didn't stay to watch. Though her footsteps were still uneven, she trippingly ran through the maze of containers. All she wanted to do was put as many footsteps as possible between herself and those two creeps. The ground swayed and she listed from side to side, all the while running desperately… "It's not far away now."

The street came into view. Robin whooped in delight and staggered closer.

But the docks were slippery, her footing uneven. The closer she came to the street, the more she staggered toward the edge, until-

The black water flew up to greet her. She plunged into its frigid depths gasping for breath. The cold burned her skin, but every second she became

more numb.

Her vision dimmed.

Her heart slowed.

She stopped struggling toward the surface.

She was already unconscious when the great black shadow pulled her out.

**Authors note: this is my 1st ever fanfic, so reviews will be greatly appreciated! And there will be more chapters.**


	2. Chapter 2

Gotham was a tough place to grow up- Robin Grayson knew that firsthand. Brought up in a circus in a tough area of town, she was accustomed up hearing the pop of gunshots and the wail of police sirens.

Tonight, however, was ominously quiet. The Falcone mob had been silenced, and, for the last few months, Gotham had lived in relative peace. Not that this helped Robin any- times were tougher for her than they had ever been. She hugged her worn leather biker coat closer to her and pulled the hood down over her forehead- it would be along night indeed if she didn't find shelter soon.

The alleyways Robin trod through the day were quickly becoming dark as the last tendrils of purple leaked out of the clouds. Robin quickened her pace; it was a bad idea for anyone to be caught out alone in this part of Gotham, even more so for a young woman.

Her favorite haunt was out by the docks at Gotham Harbor. Within its maze of empty cargo containers, one could find plenty of nooks and crannies which to sleep away the night unnoticed. One had only to watch out for the occasional drug dealer or prostitute taking advantage of the docks privacy. Robin had traversed the area so frequently she did not have to think about where she was going; she simply followed where her feet took her.

She stopped abruptly in the ghostly orb of a streetlight. Her small figure cast a distorted shadow in the orange light. All seemed quiet, but…

She disregarded the notion. "Keep going. You're the only person around," she thought. Shaking her head, Miss Grayson continued on. "You know how everything echoes in here."

But as the many rows of containers passed by, Robin kept her ears open. Everything was as it always was. Still… "Something's weird here."

Robin was certain she heard another set of feet pounding the asphalt behind her. She slipped clandestinely between two stacks of containers, making sure she was hidden by the crates. Sure enough, another set of footsteps continued to plod on. "There _is_ someone else."

As the footsteps approached, Robin waited with bated breath. Whoever it was passed by her hiding place without pausing. Miss Grayson wiggled her way out from between cargo containers and crept on toward her usual hiding place- but kept close to the shadows and muffled her footsteps.

Suddenly-

"Hey Sweetheart! You passed that streetlight and just up and disappeared!" Two muscular hands seized the collar of her jacket and shoved her to the ground. Her head cracked the pavement. Scrambling up, Robin kicked back as her attackers huge hands fumbled at her ankles. She stumbled a few desperate steps, but her head swam with the impact of the fall and her feet fumbled. She fell back to the ground, and those same two arms pulled her by the shoulders back behind a container. "Not so fast sweet- Oof!"

The man holding her spun backwards, and Robins arms were wrenched painfully as her attacker flew away. This latest assailant materialized from between cargo containers, a great tall man in black. Even as Robin crawled away, the sounds of their fight reverberated throughout the docks.

But Robin didn't stay to watch. Though her footsteps were still uneven, she trippingly ran through the maze of containers. All she wanted to do was put as many footsteps as possible between herself and those two creeps. The ground swayed and she listed from side to side, all the while running desperately… "It's not far away now."

The street came into view. Robin whooped in delight and staggered closer.

But the docks were slippery, her footing uneven. The closer she came to the street, the more she staggered toward the edge, until-

The black water flew up to greet her. She plunged into its frigid depths gasping for breath. The cold burned her skin, but every second she became

more numb.

Her vision dimmed.

Her heart slowed.

She stopped struggling toward the surface.

She was already unconscious when the great black shadow pulled her out.

**Authors note: this is my 1st ever fanfic, so reviews will be greatly appreciated! And there will be more chapters.**

Ch. 2

"Nnnhhhh… mmmmmmffffff…"

Robin bit her lip. For hours, the pain in her head and lungs had waxed and waned, sometimes causing her to cry out in the silence for anyone, anyone who could hear her.

The room was dark and stifling. Though the curtains were closed, she was sure it was night; the only light was moonlight filtering in between the curtain. For hours, Robin had heard nothing from any part of the house- and she was sure that this place was a house. It was certainly not a hospital- far too spacious, and too well furnished. The bed she now occupied was a four-poster, with a great velvet canopy. The walls were high, with a vaulted ceiling and windows near the very top. They were curtained with the same material as the canopy, making the room stuffy and stagnant.

The furniture was as lavish as the room itself; all dark, richly patterned wood. Directly across from the bed, a large desk stood with what looked like a stained-glass-shaded lamp. An identical lamp adorned the bed stand on her right. If this wasn't a mansion, it was a Ritz-Carlton. Even in dark relief, Robin could see the extravagance clearly.

The clarity of her thoughts surprised Robin. "Maybe I'm not as wrecked as I think I am."

Even so, that wasn't saying much. Soon after waking up, Robin had snaked one IV- punctured arm up to her forehead; even through the thick bandages she felt a tender bump.

Now if only she could remember how she became so injured. All she could seem to remember was a dangerous stranger and odd shadows… as hard as she wracked her mind, nothing else was coming back. Robin laid her head back on the many fluffy pillows and closed her eyes…. Maybe in the morning she would find out what this strange place was.

"What's that… oh geez."

In a moonlit corner, a bat was caught in the curtains. It thrashed and screamed in desperation; Robin cowered in bed. Bats were possibly her least favorite animals.

"Hey! Hey! Somebody come here, there's a bat in my room! Somebody! " She listened for footsteps.

Nothing.

Untangling herself from the sheets, she limped to the door. "Hey, somebody! Hey! HE-"

The door swung open, and a silver-haired man in silk pajamas rushed in the door. He looked rather harried and cross. "What? Why didn't you just get it yourself-" He stopped just in time to keep from running straight into Robin. "Who- oh. What is it? Are you hurt?"

"Umm…" Robin was now painfully aware that she was dressed only in a hospital gown. Looking at her feet, she tried to remember what it was that warranted her screaming.

"Well?" Apparently, this man was not a night owl.

"There's, um, a bat. Up there, in the curtain." She pointed at the window.

This new stranger squinted at the still- thrashing bat. After a moments consideration, he shuffled out the door. "Stay here," he mumbles sleepily.

Robin rolled her eyes and limped back to the bed. "Like I've got anywhere good to go."

The sound of doors opening and muted mumbles punctuated the silence. Before long, two pairs of feet came shuffling down the hall. Another door opened and closed, and the first groggy man entered the room, accompanied by another, much taller figure- holding a broom.

"Over there, Master Wayne. In the corner by the curtains." He pointed to the bat.

The second man walked confidently forward, raised the broom high over his head and carefully poked the curtains until the unfortunate bat disentangled itself. He then held the curtain back and the bat flew quietly out the window. Setting the broom in the corner, he turned to Robin.

"Annoying little buggers aren't they? I can hardly stand them myself."

Robin stared at him, dumbfounded. Whoever this latest arrival was, he was clearly wealthy. He wore a rich red silk robe that reached to the floor, and flannel pajamas to match. Even his navy slippers looked expensive. Robin mused that anyone who had such expensive pajamas must have been obscenely wealthy.

This odd stranger dragged the chair from in front of the desk to the foot of the bed. "You must be anxious, waking up in a strange house in a strangers bed. I'm sorry for the rude awakening, the bats nest in a cave somewhere near the lake." His voice was quiet and calm.

"It's been a while since I slept in a bed." Robin could think of nothing more coherent to say.

He frowned. "Is that why you were on the docks? You're homeless?"

Robin said nothing. "Don't be ashamed to admit it, you aren't the only homeless person in Goth-"

"Who are you?" Robin burst out. "And why did you bring me back to your house?" Her days on Gohtams' streets head taught her suspicion of anyone too kindly.

"you were attacked on the docks. I brought you here because you were injured and unconscious- you've had a concussion and cracked your skull, and you fell in the water running away from me."

"You were attacked on the docks. I brought you here because you were injured and unconscious- you've had a concussion and cracked your skull, and you fell into the harbor. My name is Bruce Wayne. This is my home, Wayne mansion."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 1**

Gotham was a tough place to grow up- Robin Grayson knew that firsthand. Brought up in a circus in a tough area of town, she was accustomed up hearing the pop of gunshots and the wail of police sirens.

Tonight, however, was ominously quiet. The Falcone mob had been silenced, and, for the last few months, Gotham had lived in relative peace. Not that this helped Robin any- times were tougher for her than they had ever been. She hugged her worn leather biker coat closer to her and pulled the hood down over her forehead- it would be along night indeed if she didn't find shelter soon.

The alleyways Robin trod through the day were quickly becoming dark as the last tendrils of purple leaked out of the clouds. Robin quickened her pace; it was a bad idea for anyone to be caught out alone in this part of Gotham, even more so for a young woman.

Her favorite haunt was out by the docks at Gotham Harbor. Within its maze of empty cargo containers, one could find plenty of nooks and crannies which to sleep away the night unnoticed. One had only to watch out for the occasional drug dealer or prostitute taking advantage of the docks privacy. Robin had traversed the area so frequently she did not have to think about where she was going; she simply followed where her feet took her.

She stopped abruptly in the ghostly orb of a streetlight. Her small figure cast a distorted shadow in the orange light. All seemed quiet, but…

She disregarded the notion. "Keep going. You're the only person around," she thought. Shaking her head, Miss Grayson continued on. "You know how everything echoes in here."

But as the many rows of containers passed by, Robin kept her ears open. Everything was as it always was. Still… "Something's weird here."

Robin was certain she heard another set of feet pounding the asphalt behind her. She slipped clandestinely between two stacks of containers, making sure she was hidden by the crates. Sure enough, another set of footsteps continued to plod on. "There _is_ someone else."

As the footsteps approached, Robin waited with bated breath. Whoever it was passed by her hiding place without pausing. Miss Grayson wiggled her way out from between cargo containers and crept on toward her usual hiding place- but kept close to the shadows and muffled her footsteps.

Suddenly-

"Hey Sweetheart! You passed that streetlight and just up and disappeared!" Two muscular hands seized the collar of her jacket and shoved her to the ground. Her head cracked the pavement. Scrambling up, Robin kicked back as her attackers huge hands fumbled at her ankles. She stumbled a few desperate steps, but her head swam with the impact of the fall and her feet fumbled. She fell back to the ground, and those same two arms pulled her by the shoulders back behind a container. "Not so fast sweet- Oof!"

The man holding her spun backwards, and Robins arms were wrenched painfully as her attacker flew away. This latest assailant materialized from between cargo containers, a great tall man in black. Even as Robin crawled away, the sounds of their fight reverberated throughout the docks.

But Robin didn't stay to watch. Though her footsteps were still uneven, she trippingly ran through the maze of containers. All she wanted to do was put as many footsteps as possible between herself and those two creeps. The ground swayed and she listed from side to side, all the while running desperately… "It's not far away now."

The street came into view. Robin whooped in delight and staggered closer.

But the docks were slippery, her footing uneven. The closer she came to the street, the more she staggered toward the edge, until-

The black water flew up to greet her. She plunged into its frigid depths gasping for breath. The cold burned her skin, but every second she became

more numb.

Her vision dimmed.

Her heart slowed.

She stopped struggling toward the surface.

She was already unconscious when the great black shadow pulled her out.

**Chapter 2**

"Nnnhhhh… mmmmmmffffff…"

Robin bit her lip. For hours, the pain in her head and lungs had waxed and waned, sometimes causing her to cry out in the silence for anyone, _anyone _who could hear her.

The room was dark and stifling. Though the curtains were closed, she was sure it was night; the only light was moonlight filtering in between the curtain. For hours, Robin had heard nothing from any part of the house- and she was sure that this place was a house. It was certainly not a hospital- far too spacious, and too well furnished. The bed she now occupied was a four-poster, with a great velvet canopy. The walls were high, with a vaulted ceiling and windows near the very top. They were curtained with the same material as the canopy, making the room stuffy and stagnant.

The furniture was as lavish as the room itself; all dark, richly patterned wood. Directly across from the bed, a large desk stood with what looked like a stained-glass-shaded lamp. An identical lamp adorned the bed stand on her right. If this wasn't a mansion, it was a Ritz-Carlton. Even in dark relief, Robin could see the extravagance clearly.

The clarity of her thoughts surprised Robin. "Maybe I'm not as wrecked as I think I am."

Even so, that wasn't saying much. Soon after waking up, Robin had snaked one IV- punctured arm up to her forehead; even through the thick bandages she felt a tender bump.

Now if only she could remember how she became so injured. All she could seem to remember was a dangerous stranger and odd shadows… as hard as she wracked her mind, nothing else was coming back. Robin laid her head back on the many fluffy pillows and closed her eyes…. Maybe in the morning she would find out what this strange place was.

"What's that… _oh_ _geez._"

In a moonlit corner, a bat was caught in the curtains. It thrashed and screamed in desperation; Robin cowered in bed. Bats were possibly her least favorite animals.

"Hey! Hey! Somebody come here, there's a bat in my room! Somebody! " She listened for footsteps.

Nothing.

Untangling herself from the sheets, she limped to the door. "Hey, somebody! Hey! _HE-"_

The door swung open, and a silver-haired man in silk pajamas rushed in the door. He looked rather harried and cross. "What? Why didn't you just get it yourself-" He stopped just in time to keep from running straight into Robin. "Who- oh. What is it? Are you hurt?"

"Umm…" Robin was now painfully aware that she was dressed only in a hospital gown. Looking at her feet, she tried to remember what it was that warranted her screaming.

"Well?" Apparently, this man was not a night owl.

"There's, um, a bat. Up there, in the curtain." She pointed at the window.

This new stranger squinted at the still- thrashing bat. After a moments consideration, he shuffled out the door. "Stay here," he mumbles sleepily.

Robin rolled her eyes and limped back to the bed. "Like _I've_ got anywhere good to go."

The sound of doors opening and muted mumbles punctuated the silence. Before long, two pairs of feet came shuffling down the hall. Another door opened and closed, and the first groggy man entered the room, accompanied by another, much taller figure- holding a broom.

"Over there, Master Wayne. In the corner by the curtains." He pointed to the bat.

The second man walked confidently forward, raised the broom high over his head and carefully poked the curtains until the unfortunate bat disentangled itself. He then held the curtain back and the bat flew quietly out the window. Setting the broom in the corner, he turned to Robin.

"Annoying little buggers aren't they? I can hardly stand them myself."

Robin stared at him, dumbfounded. Whoever this latest arrival was, he was clearly wealthy. He wore a rich red silk robe that reached to the floor, and flannel pajamas to match. Even his navy slippers looked expensive. Robin mused that anyone who had such expensive pajamas must have been obscenely wealthy.

This odd stranger dragged the chair from in front of the desk to the foot of the bed. "You must be anxious, waking up in a strange house in a strangers bed. I'm sorry for the rude awakening, the bats nest in a cave somewhere near the lake." His voice was quiet and calm.

"It's been a while since I slept in a bed." Robin could think of nothing more coherent to say.

He frowned. "Is that why you were on the docks? You're homeless?"

Robin said nothing. "Don't be ashamed to admit it, you aren't the only homeless person in Goth-"

"Who _are_ you?" Robin burst out. "And why did you bring me back to your house?" Her days on Gotham's' streets head taught her suspicion of anyone too kindly.

"You were attacked on the docks. I brought you here because you were injured and unconscious- you've had a concussion and cracked your skull, and you fell in the water running away from me."

"You were attacked on the docks. I brought you here because you were injured and unconscious- you've had a concussion and cracked your skull, and you fell into the harbor. My name is Bruce Wayne. This is my home, Wayne mansion."

**Chapter 3**

"You're Bruce Wayne? _Bruce Wayne, _as in Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham? The city's most infamous playboy?" Robin reached over and turned on the stained-glass lamp. "I don't believe my eyes."

Bruce chuckled. "Been reading the tabloids, have we?"

"Wha- oh. Yeah, used to work for one."

"What were you doing working for a tabloid?"

"Just delivering." Robin squirmed under the sheets; all she wore underneath the gown were her panties.

"But you're a bit young to have a job. The hiring age is sixteen."

"The hiring manager didn't seem to mind. Besides, all I did was go around at three in the morning tossing the _Gotham Hawk_ into people's driveways. It paid pretty fair, all things considered." She shrugged; the gown fell off her shoulders, exposing her entire chest.

"Aack!" Robin dove under the sheets, embarrassed enough to pee her pants- or wet the bed, at any rate. "Where are my clothes?" She asked angrily, peeking out to glare out at Bruce. It must have been Bruce or the sleepy man who had undressed her- hardly a comforting thought, either way. "You freak! Perv! You coulda at least put me in some pajamas! Why am I naked anyway?"

"I told you, you fell in the harbor. I had to look you over to make sure that your skin didn't have any damage from the freezing water." Bruce looked uncomfortably at the floor. "I hope you'll forgive me. Besides, you wouldn't have had a chance if I'd just left you there."

Robin was little comforted. "If I was hurt so bad, why didn't you just call a doctor? Or can Bruce Wayne not afford a physician?" Her Chicago-esque accent came on full force, just as it always did when she got sarcastic. "What, was the ER full? Was the Lamborghini out of g-"

"My, you are sarcastic. Maybe you aren't as bad as I thought." He frowned. "I _am _a physician," Bruce said.

Robin stared, nonplussed. "But I thought you were a-"

"Businessman," Bruce broke in. "Yes, I am involved at Wayne Industries, but I studied at Princeton to become a pediatrician. Just like my father."

"Oh,… well, then maybe you've gotta point. But I'd still like to see that degree." Robin glared at Bruce, hoping to inspire some guilt on his part.

"Then see it you will, as soon as you get up tomorrow morning." Bruce opened his mouth to say more, but at that moment, a clock began to chime. Robin listened carefully, counting each chime. "Did that thing just chime thirteen times?"

"Uh, yes… it's on military time," Bruce said hurriedly. He then rose from his chair, looking suddenly serious. "Well, I should get back to bed, tomorrow is a long day for me." He headed for the door, but Robin stopped him.

She sat up, clutching the gown to her. "Wait! You haven't said where my clothes are."

"Alfred, my butler, put them in the wash- I imagine he will wash them several times."

Robin grinned sheepishly "They _were_ pretty revolting."

"If you want something to wear in the meantime, there is a bath robe in the closet there-" he indicated the bathroom door- "It's in the walk-in closet next to the shower, and probably some slippers." He turned to go, but paused in the doorway. "I may not be home until the afternoon tomorrow. Feel free to look around. Any room that's private- and there aren't many- will be locked. I will tell Alfred you have my permission."

And with a swish of his silk robe, Bruce Wayne strode purposefully out the door.

**Chapter 4**

Robin turned the map and hitched up her pants. "Now it makes sense." Turning down the hall, which, according to her map, led to a staircase, she struggled to keep her double-cuffed pants from catching in the crutch as she hobbled along.

They weren't her pants; they had belonged to a young Bruce Wayne. Both she and Alfred had agreed that her own clothes looked little cleaner after five washings, so Alfred had marched off to another bedroom and pulled out a red flannel shirt and denim jeans. As Robin expected, it was all too big- the shirt came almost to her knees, and the sleeves had to be rolled up to half their length. The jeans were no better; they were nearly as tall as she was, and the belt Alfred had offered her (also the property of a teenage Bruce) could have wrapped around her twice. Even at fifteen, "Master Wayne" had been nearly twice her size.

Alfred had also given her a wrapped box which- she had to laugh at this- contained a leather-bound map of Wayne mansion, courtesy of Bruce. She figured it was a map

Robin looked at the map- where had she decided she was? Oh yes- the staircase leading to the third floor of the west wing. She continued down the hall, stopping to look into the rooms as she passed them. They had all turned out to be bedrooms of offices. As it happened, there had been only three locked doors, which she assumed were Bruce's and Alfred's rooms. She turned a right corner and descended up the wooden staircase.

She could feel her pants slipping as she walked up, but didn't take her eyes off the map. There were so many landings and other stairs branching off, and she knew she would lose her bearings if she did. The map indicated a huge room on the map that had no label, and she wanted to know what it was.

She reached the first landing; her pants were sagging. Still, she continued on.

Halfway to the second landing; her pants were slipping toward her waist.

Three steps up; they just barely held at her hips. Robin gulped and did a sort of hip-shaking jig to keep them up.

Two more steps-

The jeans fell down to her knees and caught the crutch in mid-step, sending her bonking and bashing all the way to the first landing. She slid across the floor like a hapless figure skater. She thumped against door and stopped. The crutch slid to a stop a few feet away.

She sighed. "I sure fellfor that one."

Bad puns aside, Robin felt pretty floored. "Good thing puns make it easier to see the humor."

Robin cocked her ear. As her heartbeat slowed; she heard footsteps sounding in the hall below. She gulped. "Alfred."

He had been clandestinely following Robin all day, no doubt to make sure she didn't get into any trouble. Honestly, did he really expect her to believe that he just happened to be cleaning everywhere she was headed?

Robin grabbed the crutch and crawled army-style through the half-open door. She nudged it, and it closed quietly.

It all reminded Robin of the attack on the docks. The footsteps pounded past her. She waited until they faded and got up. Only then did she realize that this was not just another bedroom.

Even years later, Robin would swear that what she saw made her heart stop.

Really, is there such thing as a good pun?

Which brings up another question- where does Alfred find all the time to vacuum Wayne mansion?

**A/N: I just got back into school, so updates will be a trifle slower. Hang in there, I'm not done just yet!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 5**

It was a library- an impossibly vast library. The room was as tall and wide as the ballroom on the first floor, with books lining every possible surface. There were ladders on every wall, and in the middle of the room a great spiral staircase ran up to the ceiling. It branched off at three levels, each bridge running to one of three balconies that wrapped around the wall. All walls, even the doorway, were lined with richly bound books squeezed onto beautiful cherry wood bookshelves.

Robin sucked in a ragged breath and walked slowly out to the middle of the floor. Once she was out of the arched entryway, it looked even grander. No matter how long she ogled, Robin simply could not take in the sheer hugeness of the place.

Hobbling over to a bookshelf on the right wall, she began to scan the list of authors. This particular shelf was fiction. She scanned the titles until one title lept out at her- _A Scanner Darkly_, by Philip k. Dick. Balancing her weight on one crutch, she pulled the volume out and flipped it open.

"I see you are enjoying the library. I can help you up the staircase, if you would like."

Robin jolted. The crutch slipped from her sweaty underarm and she went toppling back. A strong arm caught her at the waist and Bruce's other hand gently supported the small of her back. "Careful. Don't want to injure that hip anymore."

Robin blushed at the Bruce's words. Did he have to be around every time she was hurt?

"You know, this whole situation could have been avoided if you'd have given me _two_ crutches." Robin said this more out of self-defense than anything else. She had not even noticed her badly bruised hip until this morning. But Bruce, apparently, _had_ noticed this last night, and left her precisely one crutch propped against the bedroom door.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that-" Bruce searched distractedly for the wayward crutch- "these things are almost as old as I am. The other one seems to have disappeared in the attic." He wedged the crutched under her shoulder. "Speaking of when I was a teenager, are those _my _old clothes?"

"Um, yeah, Alfred gave them to me. My clothes were pretty ratty." She shifted the crutch to support all of her weight. Though she tried to be clandestine about it, Bruce noticed. "If it still hurts, you should lay down."

"Oh, it's not that bad," she lied through gritted teeth. "I just bumped it in the fall. It's fine." In truth, she didn't want to leave the library.

"So that _was _you!" Robin blushed cherry and Bruces' eyes twinkled. "And Alfred said he would keep an eye on you. Tsk tsk."

Robin's stomach growled loudly. "Speaking of Alfred, can we get lunch?"

Bruce carried his guest up to the first balcony, where there was a table and two chairs. They did not look as if they had been used for a long while; the chairs were slippery with dust and the tablecloth was nearly gray. Bruce radioed Alfred to bring lunch to the library. Lunch, as it turned out, was tuna salad sandwiches.

"Hmmm,… smells fishy," Robin joked, carefully watching Alfreds retreating back.

"Smells fine to me." Bruce sniffed his sandwich. "See, it's tuna, that's why it smells- oh," he said dryly. "Very punny."

Robin giggled and nearly spat out a mouthful of tuna. "So you like to read? The library should keep you busy."

"If I don't kill myself going up the stairs." Bruce chuckled politely.

For several seconds, quiet ensued. They both munched their sandwiches, searching for something to say. Robin absentmindedly traced the patterns carved around the edge of the table. She squinted and looked closely at the symbols; they were quite familiar.

"What?" Bruce leaned in to examine the carvings. "Looks like some kind of number system."

"No," Robin said, moving her plate to see the whole circle of numbers, "It's an illuminated alphabet. Whoever carved this had insane talent."

Bruce reached a hand down to touch the outermost ring of carved wood. "It looks like this could…" He moved his fingers in a circle, and the letters moved as well. When a large, ornate W was in before him, a loud clank sounded in the tables' core.

Bruce pushed back his chair and ducked under the table. "There are letters carved under here, too." He flipped around and looked at the tables' underside. For several moments, he didn't say anything.

Robin peeked under the table at Bruces' frowning face. "What does it say?"

"It's names," he mumbled, "The names of the first generation of Waynes to live here." He stared at the underside of the table. "Why would you carve the bottom of the table?"

Bruce slid himself out from under the table. "Well, who knows? It's always been a family legend that the Wayne who built this house was nutty."No- he wasn't crazy. Just smart." Robins' eyes twinkled. "It's a combination lock." she slowly began to turn the outermost ring of wood, first to A, then Y, then N, and finally E. With each letter, a clank sounded from inside the table.

Bruce and Robin held their breath. Nothing happened.

Robin huffed. "Maybe that Mr. Wayne of old was crazy." She set her elbow on the shelf next to her. "Doesn't look like it does anythi-"

Bruce lunged across the table to catch Robin as she toppled out of her chair. The bookcase swung back into the wall like a door.

"Hidden codes, secret tunnels- there's more to Wayne manor than meets the elbow," Robin said, rubbing her bruised elbow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 6**

**Despite Robins' wisecracking, Bruce didn't laugh. He stared at the space where the bookshelf had been just moments before, looking as if he had just discovered evidence of some great crime.**

**Robin- still lying on the floor- looked awkwardly away from his stunned face. She gently tugged at the cuff of his jeans. "Umm, Bruce. I can't get up."**

**Instead of helping her up, he simply stared ahead at the tunnel. Robin rapped his shoe. "I'm still here."**

**Slowly, a rueful smile cracked across Bruce's face. His eyes were glassy and distant, as if some long forgotten memory had suddenly breached, unwanted and uncalled-for.**

"**Bruce?" Her voice felt small in her throat. He bent down and lifted Robin into to chair. He retrieved the crutch, all without a word.**

"**He was telling the truth. All that time I thought he was pulling my leg, and he was telling the truth." He turned to Robin. "He always used to tell me stories about secret passages built into the walls, and I never believed him, even as a kid."**

**Robin stared. Was Bruce losing it?**

**Bruce disappeared between the bookshelves. After a moments' hesitation, Robin followed, leaning heavily on her crutch. The passage was dark and quite short, and she had passed through it almost as soon as she entered. And promptly smacked into Bruce.**

**The crutch skidded on the marble floor and Robin grabbed the crook of Bruce's elbow. With one sweep of his arm, he hefted her to his side and propped her against the wall. "Guess I can't help fallin' for you, eh?"**

**Bruce did not answer. His breathing was uneven; his face was contorted. He bit his quivering lip and closed his eyes. Slowly, feeling along the walls, Bruce walked on. Blinding light flooded the passage. "I guess we've found the light at the end of the tunnel," Robin whispered to herself. Shading her eyes, she hobbled into the room.**

**The room was the size of Robin's room, with the same vaulted ceiling. Just like the library, it was lined with shelves. Some held books, but most held-**

"**What **_**is **_**this stuff?" Robin poked the indeterminate lumps on the shelves. It spat out a cloud of dust; Robin gamely turned it over, making as little skin contact with **_**it**_** as possible. "Looks like yarn." She turned to face the many shelves lining the three other walls. "But who could have possibly wanted so much-" The look on Bruce's face stopped her.**

**Tears tracks marked a river on his dusty face. The solitary shaft of sunlight from the one high window cast a halo around him as he sat on the faded maroon couch. In his lap sat a lumpy, half-knit sweater, knitting needles still poking out. "My mother loved to knit." Bruce's voice was quiet. He stared at the dust-laden sweater, and Robin knew that he was not talking to her. "She was knitting this for me. She thought about taking it to the opera that night, but she…" His face twisted in painful ways. More tears streaked his face. "She decid-d-ded not t-to." **

**Fresh tears soaked the unfinished sweater. Bruce hung his head; hugged his knees to his stomach; shook with silent tears.**

**Robin bit her lip and swallowed the dry lump forming in her own throat. What did you say to a stranger at a time like this? Of course, Robin knew the story of his parents deaths; the **_**Gotham Hawk**_** rehashed it on a monthly basis. But… what to say to a man you hardly knew? **

"**My parents died too." Bruce looked up abruptly and Robin blushed. She didn't know she'd spoken until it was too late.**

"**They were in the circus… trapeze artists. The most renowned-" she sucked in a quavering breath- "in the country."**

**Tears were pushing unmercifully on the corners of her eyes. Her arm was numb and her shoulder aching. Robin made her shaky way to the couch. She scuffed her shoe in the carpet, stirring a cloud of dust. "It was so sudden- I was sitting at home… just watching TV or someghing." She stole a glance at Bruce. He was not looking at her, but Robin knew that he was listening. "My cousin- she wasn't really my cousin, just a family friend, she came into our apartment. I knew something was wrong because she'd come in the middle of the night- no one went out at night in Crime Alley. There were police in the hall, and they wanted to talk to me, but she wouldn't let them."**

**"She told me that there had been an accident at the circus and my parents were hurt. The police took me to the hospital to see them, but they were dead before I got there. That was all two years ago. I was fifteen then. They left me all but nothing. I would have been a ward of the state, but I ran away." She grimaced. "In retrospect, not the best choice."**

**Bruce didn't say anything, so Robin went on nervously. "You were right last night- about me being homeless. I lived in an abandoned cargo container."**

**Bruce lifted his head. "You must be very resourceful, living for two years like that. I didn't fare so well on the streets." He looked her in the eye now. "I ran away after my parents killer was given parole."**

**Robin was surprised. "**_**You**_** were homeless?"**

"**Yes," Bruce answered, and his mood became easier. "I was drowned in rage and guilt when the man who murdered them was granted parole- though I realize now that I was the one holding me under the water, not him." He shook his head. "I blamed my parents' killer for my own refusal to let my emotions go. I left the US after graduating from Princeton and lived the life of a street **_**rat- **_**he spat out the word like saltwater- I wanted to take on every bit of scum like him myself- but that's another story entirely." He smiled to himself, as if enjoying some private joke.**

"**But you obviously came back, so you must have learned to deal with it- I wish every day of my sorry life that I could," Robin was wistful, and she felt her own pessimism washing over her. "I wish the guy who killed **_**my **_**parents was dead."**

"**That's a dangerous way of thinking," Bruce said solemnly.**

**They both sat in silence; Bruce fingering the half-done sweater; Robin staring uncomfortably at her feet. The silence shattered abruptly when a far-off clock chimed loudly.**

"**That thing just chimed thirteen, didn't it?"Robin looked at Bruce, but he was already on his feet, oblivious to her words. "I'll tell Alfred where you are- I'll have him bring a wheelchair. Perhaps then maneuvering the manor will be easier."**

"**Wha- why are you- you're leaving?" Robin was nonplussed.**

"**I have to go- to a meeting." With the same hurried step as the night before, he strode to the door, where he turned to face her. "I won't be back until very late tonight."**

**Robin watched him leave, and then plopped back on the couch. "He told me his meetings were **_**ending**_** this afternoon-" she consulted her watch- "which would be now. Either this guy can't keep his social calendar straight, or there's something fishy going on."**

**And this time, she wasn't making a pun.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 7**

**The next week did little to allay Robin's fears. **

**She avoided Alfred at all costs and ate her meals alone. She hardly spoke a word.**

"**Robin is beginning to suspect," Bruce told Alfred late Saturday night.**

"**Suspect what, Master Wayne?" Alfred said without looking up from his book. "Your nonexistent social life, these business meetings that don't happen? Or perhaps it's your nocturnal outings and unexplained injuries?"**

**Bruce rubbed his temples. He knew that tone; Alfred had never liked the idea of Batman. He liked having the girl at Wayne Mansion even less.**

"**Please, bear with me, Alfred." He shifted gingerly on the couch; he had cracked three ribs the previous night. "She's hurt. I can't just throw her back out onto the street. That would be no better than throwing her to the predators and perverts."**

"**But you could send her to a hospital."**

"**Oh, that would go over well- Bruce Wayne, billionaire and playboy, admits a mysterious girl to the hospital with unexplained injuries. I can see the tabloid headlines right now."**

"**You could admit her anonymously."**

**Bruce closed his eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing in his ribcage. "And where would she go from there?"**

"**There are programs for homeless children, she could go into one of them."**

"**I'm not sending her into the system, that's emotional manslaughter. The poor kids who go into **_**this**_** city's broken foster system come out as train wrecks. If they make it out."**

"**You could arrange to have her adopted." Alfred looked Bruce pointedly in the eye. "I'm sure that with a little behind-the-scenes dealing, you could quietly have her place with a good family."**

"**No. I am not bribing anyone." Bruce sat up, wincing as he did. "Until I decide otherwise, she stays." He slouched gingerly out of the lounge and into the master bedroom.**

"**I take it you won't be going out tonight?" Alfred looked at Bruce with concern. Bruce stopped in the doorway. "No," he said tiredly, "Jim Gordon will just have to wait."**

**He closed the door to the master bedroom quietly and shuffled into the master bathroom. His could feel where his ribs were cracked, and Bruce wondered if maybe it was time to see a doctor. Alfred had told him last night that he should go to the hospital. "I can see his smug look right now." He turned on both the bathtub's spigots and began to undress.**

**Once settled into the tub comfortably, he leaned back and closed his eyes. The jacuzzi jets brought a sense of relief he hadn't had all day. Sitting through endless business meetings with three cracked ribs was a pain like no other, and not being able to let on about it didn't make it any easier.**

**Speaking of people he couldn't let in on his injury… he sighed and sank lower into the steaming bathwater, as if doing so would wash away his troubles. Despite what he may tell Alfred, Bruce really had no idea what to do with the girl. She had been avoiding both he and Alfred for the past four days. Bruce had to admit, however, he would ,too, if he had woken up in a strangers house. "Woken up injured, no less."**

**He had no idea where she came from, or if she still had any family, whether she had any criminal record. He wasn't even sure if 'Robin' was really her name. How was he to know what to do with her?**

**He whimpered and shifted uncomfortably. All this stress was doing him no good. **

**Of course, she had told him something about herself; it was these very matters that drew him to her. An orphan, like him; a runaway as well. And equally strong-willed. "She had to be, to survive any length of time on Gotham's streets. I don't know how she managed it." Robin was tough- no question about that.**

**"Be honest with yourself, Bruce- why is it that you refuse to send her away?"**

**Bruce couldn't stand it! His conscience always sounded annoyingly like Alfred. No matter how he tried to dismiss it, it was always right; he knew what it was telling him now.**

"**If you will really be honest with yourself, you'll find that you sympathize with that girl. You know what she's up against, without parents or family to speak of. You know yourself how hard being an orphan is, even with someone to look after you."**

**Bruce slid under the water, just barely keeping his nose above the surface. The hum of the jets was calming. The quiet of the mansion had always bothered him, even when Alfred was around.**

"**You know very well what you want to do- you're tired of keeping secrets and coming home to an empty mansion. You've taken a liking to that girl in spite of yourself."**

**Bruce sighed. He knew what was coming.**

"**Face it-you want her to stay."**

Brief, I know, but these darn AP classes are really bogging me down! Hopefully, a new chapter will be in place by Saturday. :-P


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 8**

Robin listened closely. The air was still, the room dark, the house silent. The very air she breathed pressed close to her.

Despite the late hour, Robin was wide awake. The pain medication Bruce Wayne had given her after her fall down the stairs had made her perpetually lethargic, and she had slept most of the week away. But now, with no medication in her system, she was restless. She longed to get up, to walk around, to make up for all the time spent sleeping when she could have been doing something productive- like wondering why in Gotham's name she was still here at Wayne Manor.

She looked over at the clock on the nightstand- two thirty a.m. "They're _probably_ asleep by now…" She bit her lip; what if Alfred caught her?

"They can't catch you if they're not here." Robin knew _that_ voice- her perpetual curiosity never let her down. "You know Bruce is away most of the night, whatever he pretends, and Alfred wouldn't be up at this hour of the night. Do it, it'll be fun!"

Robin rolled her eyes. "Great. Now even my id is using clichés."

Damning the proverbial devil on her shoulder, she threw back the bed covers and stood up. "We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of odd."

There was a subtle difference between daytime quiet and nighttime quiet. Robin had sensed that difference many times in her days on the streets, but Wayne Manor highlighted it perfectly. Night-quiet always made her breathe a sigh of relief: another tedious day, full of uncertainties and hardships, was over. Robin fondly remembered what her father always said when times got tough: "Tomorrow is another day." He never once lost faith in that, and neither Robin.

She padded through the halls in stocking feet without really watching where she was going. Memories of her parents sprang up uninvited- though certainly not unwanted.

Her family had not been wealthy by anyone's count, but they had gotten by. The Gotham City Big Top didn't pay incredibly, but it did provide them with free housing. Food and clothing were payable by her parents salary, if not plentifully. In the hardest of times, the three Graysons had always, at the very least, had each other to lean on.

Passing another block of bedrooms (or so she assumed), Robin turned a swift cartwheel and said a short Our Father. "Mom, I'm pretty sure you can hear me up in heaven, and even if you can't……… I hope you're not too ashamed."

She had wandered into a room of the house she didn't recognize. It looked like a parlor, furnished as it was with fancy couches and armchairs. One wall was lined with bookshelves, and the outer wall had two ornate windows set into the stone. In the very middle of the room stood a black grand piano, shining in the moonlight. Robin thought that it looked like something out of a romance film.

The piano gleamed. The white keys ("Probably real ivory", she thought) were smooth; they reflected the moonlight up onto the ceiling. She knew she probably shouldn't, but the chance to plunk out some familiar melody on such a fine instrument was simply too tempting.

She approached the piano quietly. One hand extended hesitantly. Her fingers brushed reverentially up and down the keyboard. Robin took a step closer and banged out three random notes.

She hurried to cover her ears as the discord echoed throughout the halls. A loud grating filled the room as a bookcase behind the piano swung back into the wall- another secret passageway.

"Oh, no…" Robin whipped around and hurried for the door-but found her path blocked. Looming in the doorway, looking none too pleased, was Alfred.

"Having fun?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Authors Note: Sorry my updates have been so few and far between, but that's the way it's going to be for awhile! School is in and I am loaded down! However, I have the last week in November off, so look forward to a new chapter or two then. **

**ALSO- You may not know, but I have another Batman fanfic going that is somewhat similar to this one. If you want to check it out, it's called "The Last Joke". It is rated M, but there is nothing explicit (just heavy subject matter). **

**P.S. Happy belated Halloween, everybody!**

Chapter 8

"I don't recall Master Wayne ever telling me that you had permission to walk about at night." Alfred face was calm, but his voice was accusing.

Robin stood frozen in place, holding her breath. "There's no getting out of this one," she thought with dread.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Robin cringed; Alfred accusing voice reminded her painfully of her mother.

For a moment, neither Robin nor Alfred said anything.

"Nothing? Well then, since you are Master Wayne's guest, I suppose I should let him deal with you." And with that, Alfred seized Robin's forearm and pulled her back up the stairs.

He half-dragged, half-pulled her back up the stairs, down one hall, up another two flight of stairs , and finally down the hall. She was steeling herself to be locked in her room for the rest of the night, but Alfred stopped halfway down the hall. He rapped once on an oaken door. "Master Wayne, I think Miss Grayson would like a word with you."

"Come in, just open the door. I can-" there was a flurry of hurried movement- "finish this later."

Alfred swung the door open and pushed Robin into the room. Bruce's room was nearly identical to hers; the only thing out of place was the foldaway work bench at which Bruce was sitting. Spread out on the table was a sautering iron, screwdriver, and work gloves. Whatever Bruce had been working on was out of sight.

Alfred pushed her forward. He scowled at Robin and set his hands on his hips. He looked at Bruce, and his smug look suddenly disappeared. "Master Wayne, it took me weeks to get the last oil stains out of the carpet! The last thing I need is another bit of carpet to clean."

Bruce looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, Alfred. The earpiece was falling out again, I was just setting it back into the ma-" Alfred cleared his throat loudly. Bruce looked at him, confused; Alfred looked sideways at Robin.

"The tourist here decided to take a walk, and discovered the passage behind the bookcase in the parlor."

"You mean- the one opened by the piano?" Bruce looked skeptical.

"_Yes, _the one opened by the piano." Alfred sounded royally impatient.

"Well then why didn't you just send her back to bed and tell her that room was off limits? She certainly seems more afraid of you than me," Bruce replied with a chuckle.

Alfred glowered. "_Master _Wayne, that area of the house is extremely private, and so I assumed that you would want to reprimand her yourself. Particularly since you seem so intent on protecting Miss Grayson." Robin heard the scorn in this last statement loud and clear.

"_Me? _What do you have that could possibly hurt me?" Robin looked at Bruce inquisitively. He sat there for some time, just looking back at her. Robin wondered if he was looking _at_ her or _through_ her; he didn't seem entirely aware she was still standing there. Just as Robin was going to suggest she return to her room, Bruce rose and walked over to the nightstand beside the bed. His back to Alfred and Robin, he pulled something out of the top drawer. He hesitated a moment, and then turned back to them. The expression on his face was serious.

"Robin, I've decided to let you in on my greatest secret." He held out to her the object he had pulled from the drawer; it was a mask. Robin squinted at it, not entirely sure she was seeing it right. "That looks like the mask Batman wears." What, exactly, was Bruce trying to tell her?

"Actually," Bruce replied, "it _is_ the mask Batman wears. I am Batman."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"So… you're the Batman?"

"Mmmhmm. I decided when I was a young man that I wanted to do something to combat crime in Gotham."

Bruce and Robin stood in a low, dank cave. Robin stood straight, but Bruce stooped low so as not to hit his head on the cave ceiling.

"So of course, you did the logical thing and decided to become a costume-wearing vigilante in cape and tights."

"You seem skeptical." Despite his serious words, Bruce's eyes laughed. He was catching on to Robin's sarcasm.

Robin looked around, marveling at the many gadgets and gizmos. On a folding table to her right sat grappling guns, smoke grenades, flares, and more than a few things Robin had never seen. Batman's cape lay tossed over the back of a chair, a long tear nearly dividing it in half. Across the cave, tucked into the shadows, a hulking vehicle waited for its next frantic run around Gotham.

Bruce followed her gaze to the corner. "That's-"

"The Tumbler? I figured. Not every car collector has one of those." Robin smiled "It's certainly not a Lambo."

Bruce chuckled. "I _do _have a Lamborghini, now that you mention it, but it's mostly for appearances."

"Appearances?"

"Yes, unfortunately, for Batman to continue working, I have to lead a double life. Which gives your tabloids a lot to talk about." Bruce smiled wryly. "To most people in Gotham, I'm just a rich smut who doesn't know what to do with all his money."

"You sure do a good job. Bruce chuckled, and Robin looked embarrassed. "I didn't mean it that way. I meant you do a good job of leading a double life." Bruce smiled, but Robin did not. Something was on her mind.

A string, cold draft blew through the cave; equipment shifted on the workbench and Batman's cape fluttered to the floor. Robin shivered and hugged her poncho tight around her as cold spray soaked through her hair. "Let's get out of here."

The service elevator clattered and clanged on its way up to the mansion. Whatever had been weighing on Robin's mind in the cave had not been cleared away; the look of concentration without understanding remained on her face.

For the first time since finding her, Bruce took a good long look at her. Though her skin was pale, her hair was raven, as dark as a cloudy Gotham night. She stood slouched with her weight balanced on one leg, a street-smart stance intended to deflect unwanted attention. Bruce remembered when he himself had adopted such a façade.

She was petite, small for her age. Not that Bruce knew exactly how old she was; he was guessing seventeen or eighteen. He made a mental not to ask her the next time he had a chance.

"Bruce?" He jumped slightly; in his musing he had tuned out the world around him.

"Why did you tell me?"

"Tell you… about the Batman?"

"Yes." Robin frowned. "Of all the people you know, you told _me_. It doesn't make any sense."

"Why not? You had already found the secret passageway; I could hardly keep you from finding out."

She barked a hollow laugh. "You could have forbid me from going in that room anymore. I'm sure _Master Pennyworth _would have been more than happy to follow me around everywhere. But really… why did you tell _me_?"

Bruce bit his lip; she was forcing him to face the very things he tried not to think about.

"I told you because… I like you. You remind me of me when I was your age: hopeless and directionless and without a clue as to what to do next."

Robin's lips curled up at the edges. "I like you too." Bruce looked straight ahead at the grille doors.

The elevator shuttered to a stop, and a pneumatic hiss accompanied the opening doors. Bruce sighed in relief; why was it always this difficult to talk about his feelings? He was a _man _for goodness sakes, not a block of marble. He felt as much as the next guy- "but _my _emotionsnever want to express themselves." He ruefully stuck his hands in his pockets and exited the elevator.

Down the hall, Robin was already mounting the first of several staircases back to her room; Bruce noticed that her pajamas hung limp on her petite frame, and she tread on the cuffs of the flannel pants. As she reached the landing, she turned back to him. "You were right about one thing, Bruce. When you found me… I was directionless. But I wasn't hopeless. I never gave up hope." She turned back around, and turned a corner in the staircase.

"That", murmured Bruce, "is one tough cookie."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The wind whipped in Bruce's face unmercifully, and the rain pelted down like hailstones. Through the torrent, he could just see the next building. If he could just make this last jump-

He landed on the gravel roof with a crunch. His back screamed in pain, like a hot knife stabbing him. He moaned but kept going- he had no time to waste. Poison Ivy would not let him escape so easily.

If he had his bearings right- and according to the compass on his wrist, he did- the Tumbler was just a few blocks away. He only hoped the police had lost him.

Bruce plunged off the roof. "Doesn't matter if they have, they'll find me again when I-oof!" A whizzing bullet lodged itself in his shoulder. Blood splattered in his face and leaked onto the cape as he thudded into the ground on his back. His breath caught in his throat, and for one wild moment, he thought he was suffocating.

"Alfred! Alfred!" He yelled into the walkie-talkie attached to his hip. "Behind the Meyer Lumber warehouse in the industrial district!" Alfred yelled something unintelligible back to him, but Bruce did not listen. Police sirens were wailing just a few blocks away. He had to get to the Tumbler.

Just as he rounded the corner,his cape snagged on a dumpster, yanking him back. He slipped on the wet concrete, and his head knocked into the metal dumpster with a clang.

The clouds swam in front of his eyes. The darkness enveloped him in its cold arms.

_**Authors note: **__**more coming soon! Merry Christmas everyone!**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

His breath came evenly, and his chest rose and fell in rhythm with it. His shoulder throbbed, but he paid no attention to it. The sheets were warm and soft against his naked body.

Bruce shifted lower in the bed, and was suddenly aware of a pricking in his right forearm. He winced and pulled his arm away, but the pain increased.

"Don't struggle, Bruce. It's only and IV tube."

A small hand laid itself on his forehead. The hand wiped the sweat from his forehead; he had not even realized how hot he felt.

"You took a bullet to the shoulder. Alfred said you had a concussion." Bruce could identify the voice now; it was Robin.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy."

"It'll wear off." She sounded amused. "Just go back to sleep."

"Okay…. yeah…" he closed his eyes and sank down into the sheets. "Tell Alfred…."

"Yes? Tell Alfred what?"

Bruce sighed. "Tell him I want you to stay."

"Stay? For….. for good?"

"For good."

**THE END**

**Part Two coming this summer! Look me up in June, and the story will continue!**


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